


Break Him

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, daddy complex...sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop thinking and start, ah, <i>being</i>,” the Joker said. “You said you wanted me. Well, little bird, maybe I want you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Him

**Author's Note:**

> So, Joker/Damian is really just this fucked up extension of Joker/Bruce for me. I'm not sure if there's another soul out there that enjoys it too, but I really wanted to write about it again. Except this time with copious amounts of sex.  
> By "underage" I mean barely- Damian's 17. Let's not make this any more fucked up than it needs to be :/  
> Also, Damian ended up out of character. While I was trying to show a slightly more matured Damian, and one willing to bend in order to get the Joker, I feel like I over did it. I'll have to get more practice.

The Joker eyed the boy in front of him, the way he stood there unguarded for once. The boy wonder isn’t so much a boy now- the Joker knows he’s seventeen years and a handful of months- he wasn’t counting, per say, but he was keeping a mental tick- wondering if this day would come.

He’s more than happy it has.

Robin- Damian, the Joker knows, _oh he knows_ has an agitated look to his face that he’s had since he was a child- when he first had the little suit, the Joker remembered seeing it. Now it’s teenage angst and aggression and a whole lot of primal needs. It’s delicious.

The words were simple, just three of them- _I want you_. No flare, nothing to sugar-coat it, no explanation. The Joker doesn’t need one- it’s in Damian’s blood to want him- the Joker is sure if he lived a hundred years and never aged every Wayne boy would want him.

Damian is watching him, under that hood, behind that little dark green mask. The Joker can only raise his eyebrows and ask, “Does daddy know where you are?”

“No,” Damian says, that scowl deepening. “Do you think he’d be okay with this? I’m not sure what would piss him off more- you corrupting me, or me taking his little fuck toy.” The Joker laughs at this, he likes the vulgarity- it’s something Bruce doesn’t have, not unless he’s _pushed and pushed and pushed_.

The Joker leaned back in his chair- he’s sitting in one of his hideouts, what was a desolated building that has been remodeled inside- one he likes, one he’s taken care of, one that he can return to when he’s on the streets. How the little Bat brat found him, he’s not so sure. He must have been watching him-

_How delicious_.

“You’ve got spunk,” the Joker said, “I like that.” He motioned Damian closer, and the boy obeyed, boots echoing on the wooden floor as he crossed the room, stood between the Joker’s legs closer than the Joker had intended- but not closer than desired.

It’s taking all his restraint to not reach out and grasp the boy, to dive in and strip him and _take him_ \- but he wants to seem in control. The little bird has always had his eye- a mini Batman, he’s always thought- oh, he can see the differences, but that doesn’t change that he’s Bruce’s blood and the Joker is just as drawn to him as he is to the Joker. He’s fantasized that Damian is the Bruce he can control and tame and keep- the one who won’t constantly push him away. He’s _hoped_.

He reached up, rested his hand on Damian’s chest- can feel his heart, it’s rapid beats. He looks calm but it’s only skin deep- he’s nervous, excited, and the Joker likes that.

“Closer,” the Joker says, and Damian drops to his knees, pressing in between the Joker’s thighs, and the Joker reached one hand under that hood, sinks fingers into his dark, spiked and messy hair, and tugs him close to let his breath blow against his young lips. He could feel the boy tremble- through his hand still placed on his chest, and that’s what he wants.

He tugged Damian closer, kissed him. The boy’s mouth yielded, melted in with his without an ounce of resistance, followed his lead- but he can feel the fight, the want to try and control. _Good boy_ he thinks, for fighting it. He’ll have control tonight- another night, another game, and he can give it to the boy wonder.

The Joker traced Damian’s lower lip, and his mouth opened, allowed him in. His tongue is hot and confident against his own- he tastes like Bruce- not the same, there’s always a difference, but similar enough that if the Joker really _tried_ he could forget this was Damian.

He has no plans to forget.

He breaks the kiss to feel young breath panting against his lips, and leans back, convinced Damian really wants to play. Damian is watching him, waiting.

“Convince me,” the Joker says, even though he’s already convinced. Damian hesitated, then nearly crawled up his body, lips finding his neck and nibbling gently, kissing along his pulse point as his hands trace up and down his thighs. The Joker’s head tipped back, allowed it because it’s oddly soft and _nice_ , when he expected to be attacked. His eyes drop closed as Damian’s hands move up, untie his tie with precision and pull it away from him, dropping it to the floor so he can pop the first few buttons of his shirt, lips finding the point where the juts of his collar bone meet.

His fingers work quickly on the Joker’s shirt and vest, but he doesn’t yank clothing open- doesn’t rip anything. He let it hang there against the Joker’s skin as he made a slow, warm path down his chest. The Joker can feel him shaking- from excitement or _fear_ he’s not sure, but he hoped a sweet concoction of both, but he doesn’t open his eyes. The boy is nearly worshiping him- tender kisses and fingertips just touching, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

For a moment, he wondered if the Bat ever worshiped him like his son is, and the Joker wants to believe it’s happened, but he’s not so sure. And something in him tightens for the boy.

He peered down as Damian reached the end of his skin, is nipping at the flesh above the hem of his pants, and he smiled and reached down, pushing that hood back to run his fingers through short, dark hair. Damian looked up at him, and the Joker pushed him back gently so he can stand up. The boy doesn’t move from his knees, and the Joker thinks his Bat would be jealous that Damian is so _obeying_ to him.

The Joker shrugged his jacket, vest, and shirt off, tossing them away, leaving him half naked, and Damian’s eyes are roving over him. “Up,” he says, and Damian stood. In one fast dance of movements, the Joker grabbed him and turned them, shoved Damian into the large, plush chair, and the Joker crouched down, peered at him, fingers traced the seams of his suit, found clasps and zippers and worked them all open, never once losing eye contact.

He stripped the boy slowly, silently cursing the many layers, but openly showing no signs of hurry. Damian watched, and when his chest is finally exposed, the Joker stops for a moment to watch it rise and fall with his excited breaths. Inside, the Joker is shaking, because that skin is tanned perfectly and soft and he wants to _devour_ it, but he can’t show it- no, no, not now.

He leaned forward, pressed lips and tongue and teeth to chest and flesh and explored, heard Damian mewl softly when his mouth found one nipple and tormented it, turning it a dusty rose color, before he worried the other, one hand tracing up Damian’s thigh, pressing against his crotch and palming him through his pants. The boy shudders, throws his head back, and _yes_ , he’s hard. Any doubts the Joker had are gone.

The Joker’s fingers work those green pants open- silently, he approved of this portion of the damn costume- until he can reach in- stops, chuckles because the boy has conveniently not worn underwear.

“You’re an, ah, _naughty_ little thing,” the Joker teased, staring Damian right in the eye as he freed his cock and wrapped his hand around it. “What would daddy say?”

“He’d be- ah,” he stops, gasps as the Joker strokes, “ _jealous_ because you’re interested in _me_.” The Joker smirked, and silently wondered about the power games the boy played with the Bat- wished he could sit back and watch _that_ unfold.

Damian squirmed, pushed up into that scarred hand, gasping because the Joker touched him like no one else had- unpredictably. He’s moving at a calm pace now, but he’ll speed up for a few strokes, twist his hand around the head, and Damian will cry out- only to return to that almost teasing pace again- and he can’t tell _when_ it’s going to happen.

The Joker leaned down, pulled his hand back and gripped both of Damian’s thighs, his breath teasing his throbbing sex. Damian worried his lower lip, watched- wanted to ask, to _command_ but doesn’t- he’s reckless, but years have tought him there are things you don’t do with the Joker- unless you’re Batman.

Then again, _this_ was one of those things.

The Joker’s tongue darted out, traced up along the underside of his cock, and Damian is brought back to the here and now. He gasped and his eyes widen as that red mouth opened and swallowed him down, as his cock brushed along the scars inside the Joker’s cheeks. He pushed towards that mouth, into it, because he can’t help it- and those fingers gripping his thighs turn to iron, dig in with bruising force. The Joker’s eye are boiling, acidic, staring up into Damian, and he forced himself to not move as the Joker leisurely sucked on him, moved his mouth and tongue along his length.

Damian isn’t sure what the Joker wants- he knows what _he_ wants, and that’s everything he can take from this man- but he’s not sure how the Joker wants him to act. And if he deviates from what the Joker wants, this could get dangerous real fast- a danger he’s not here to deal with tonight.

The Joker pulled back, stared up at him. “I can _hear_ your brain turning, just like your, ah, father’s.” He frowns. “I hate that sound.”

Damian felt his heart flutter in fear, and the Joker giggled because he can see it on his face- and _this_ Robin was never one to fear much of anything. It gets him hard knowing he can scare him.

“Stop thinking and start, ah, _being_ ,” the Joker said. “You said you wanted me. Well, little bird, maybe I want you.” He crawled up that body, kissed Damian in a way that makes the boy melt, his hand wrapping around his cock and stroking him- this time faster, with intent, and Damian is whimpering into his mouth until he tossed his head to break the kiss and gasped, moaned and arched- and _that’s_ what the Joker wanted.

He slipped back down that body, hands on Damian’s hips, and pushed up him. Damian clumsily moved, getting up on his knees, and the Joker turned him, pressed his chest into the back of the chair.

“What are you-AH!” Damian cried out, eyes nearly rolling back, when he felt the Joker’s hands grasping his ass, parting the flesh, and felt his tongue- hot and slick and _divine_ ¬- assaulting him. He clutched at the chair as his body shook, jolts of high pleasure raking through his body, culminating in his aching cock.

The Joker reached around him, grasped his sex and stroked as Damian groaned and babbled his plea for more- a plea the Joker couldn’t deny.

Damian felt everything hot in his belly, at the base of his spine- building, building, until it was too much too fast, and he screamed out for the Joker as his body gave in to release, as waves of white hot nothingness and everything washed over him, his cum dripping over the Joker’s knuckles as the man laughed into his body and that just made it all _hotter_.

The Joker made a mental note that Damian liked this possibly even _more_ then his father as he leaned back, let the boy slump down into the chair as a shaking mess of raw nerves, and licked at his hand. A spicy bitterness assaulted his tongue, and Damian’s eyes widened as he watched.

“Daddy’s a lot sweeter,” the Joker said with a grin, and much to his delight Damian’s hips gyrated on their own at that, his cock twitching, wanting life again already. He giggled and leaned over him, pressing their foreheads together. “What’s he going to do to you when he hears you’ve, ah, been visiting me?”

“I dunno,” Damian said, reaching a hand out and running it along the Joker’s side. “I don’t care. What’s he gonna do to _you >_ when he hears about how you went along with it?” The Joker laughed.

“Oh, clever boy- I knew I liked you for a _reason_. Why, he’ll give me a good beating and then fuck me senseless- that’s how the Bat works.” He giggled, a hand pressing between Damian’s thighs, cupping his balls and massaging them. “Ready for round two, babydoll?”

Damian raised his eyebrows- but moaned softly because that hand felt so _good_. He didn’t think he could fuck the man yet- he needed more time-

His thoughts stopped when the Joker started laughing. “Oh baby boy,” he said, leaning back, “You’re not ready for that yet. You’re not on daddy’s level.” He grabbed Damian’s thighs, yanked them hard to pulled him half out of the chair, fingers dipping into his mouth quickly before they slipped beneath him, pressed against the entrance still slick from the Joker’s tongue. Damian, unable to see, neck pressed awkwardly into the chair, gasped, whimpered as they pressed but didn’t enter.

“Hmm, actually,” the Joker said, pulling back, “on second though-t. Get up.” He stood up and Damian hurried to obey, standing, legs feeling like jelly, and he couldn’t help but lean against the Joker. The man wrapped an arm around his shoulders, stroked his skin rather tenderly. He slipped past him, settled into the large chair, then patted his lap.

“I know you’re a bit of a big boy to sit on daddy’s lap,” he said, sneering, “but give it a shot.” Damian hesitated, then leaned over, stretching out so his legs draped over one of the arms of the chair. His ass nestled down into the Joker’s lap, and ha gasped- could feel the man through his pants. The Joker cackled. “Now now, relax, it won’t _bite_.”

Damian’s cheeks flushed, and he barely felt himself as the man was dancing his fingers along his thighs, his navel, chest, up to his mouth. “Open,” he said, and Damian obeyed, sucked on his fingers and let his eyelids droop. When those fingers pulled away he whined, and the Joker chuckled. “Another night,” he said, that hand pressing between Damian’s thighs, pressing down against him one more time, “and you can suck on something _else_ , Rob-iiiin.”

He pushed a finger into him and Damian gasped, one arm clutching onto the man’s bicep, the other running along his leg. The Joker smirked and moved it slowly, in and out of his body, before pressing a second in without much warning. Damian whimpered, started to lift away and heard the Joker _tsk_.

“Nu-uh-uh, baby boy. You’re going the, ah, wrong way.” He wrapped his other arm underneath Damian, clutched onto him and drove his fingers in deeper, making him wince. “Does it hur-t?”

“A little,” Damian admitted, hated himself for saying so. The Joker giggled.

“Just _follow my lead_ bird boy, and it won’t.” He pressed them deep inside him again, curled them slowly, hit the nerves he was searching for on his first try and made Damian cry out suddenly, eyes wide. He grinned, did it again, pressed against that spot with such a force that Damian couldn’t breathe. “See? Have a little... _faith_.”

Damian worried his lip as those fingers continued to torment him, as they spread him, pressed nerves and tissue that drove him wild, until he was squirming and aching, his cock hard all over again, leaking as it pressed against his abdomen.

Satisfied that the boy was broken with need again, the Joker pulled out and scooped him up, standing and holding him with ease. Damian reached up to clutch onto him, had forgotten that the man, despite being lithe, was _strong_ , and was deposited back into the chair.

“Knees.” Damian scrambled to obey, got on his knees and clutched at the back of the chair. One of the Joker’s hands was tracing along his spine, and Damian felt his heart pounding in his throat. He didn’t dare look, knew what was coming and part of him, buried, wanted it so badly, needed to know what was so damn alluring about the man and having him fill him, leave him bursting at the seams.

The Joker eased into him, gentler than he would have expected, and leaned over him, still stroking his back. Damian gave a choked sob, while the Joker fought down a shiver- the boy was so _tight_ it almost hurt.

“Been saving yourself, my little birdie?” he asked, letting his hand glide up his back, to his neck, into his hair. Fingers stroked scalp and Damian began to relax, though he couldn’t explain why. The Joker smiled, kissed the back of his neck, began to move his hips very slowly, tiny thrusts that forced Damian’s body to accept the intrusion, to relax around him enough that he could move, until he pulled back and gave him one full thrust-

Damian cried out, gripped the chair until his knuckles went white, but was almost smiling.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped, “again!” The Joker chuckled, voice low and dangerous.

“What my little bird wants,” he said, pulling his hips back, “my little bird gets.” He slammed back into Damian, pressed so tightly against his nerves that Damian was seeing white already, releasing his hold on the chair with one hand and reaching down, grasping himself. “Care-ful,” the Joker warned, leaning over and peppering kisses over his shoulder, “don’t end it all too _soon_.”

The warning was almost more for himself, he knew. Damian felt too good, too fast, and he was sure he’d come undone if he didn’t concentrate. This is how it was the first time the Bat touched him- almost shameful that he was spent before the fun really began, but Bruce’s fingers had been so _perfectly knowing_ of his every nerve ending, and he’d wanted and needed for so long-

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back to the here and now. He nipped at Damian’s skin, drove faster into the boy, considered batting his hand away so _he_ could control this, then decided against it.

“Anyone ever felt this _goood_ , boy?” he huffed in Damian’s ear, and he whimpered.

“N-no.” He squeezed his hand tighter as he stroked, trying to respond to the Joker’s increase in thrusts. The Joker giggled, reached around his shoulders and gripped his chin, angling his head up.

“Understand why daddy-“ he groaned as Damian’s body held him tight, caught him off guard, “likes to _play_ with me so much?” Damian nodded, whimpered as those fingers stroked his lips, pressed into his mouth for his tongue to worship briefly, before they were running down his neck, chest, squeezing one of his nipples and making him cry out. That cry sent a jolt through the Joker that he knew he couldn’t fight, and he reached for Damian’s cock, pushing his hand away, needing to be the one to own his orgasm, to cause it in every sense, to completely undo him and break him and rebuild him from the red hot coals.

Damian was pushing back against him, babbling incoherently, strings of _more more ye-AH-sss_ that settled in the air like fog, ghosting over the Joker’s skin and settling in. He pressed his mouth to Damian’s shoulder and groaned in response, unable to keep it inside, bite into his skin with such force that skin gave to teeth and his mouth exploded with copper and iron.

Damian nearly screamed, hips bucking as his body clenched the Joker so tight it hurt _in just the right way_ , coming for the second time in the Joker’s hand. The Joker closed his eyelids against the explosion of stars that assaulted his brain, let his body empty into the boy as he was knocked below wave after wave of his orgasm, until he was drowning and the only thing giving him hope of breath was clinging to the boy below him.

It took him a moment to gather his breath, to fight the warmth in his belly that made him want to curl up in the chair and cradle the boy, because _he liked that feeling of closeness_ , even if he’d never admit it. Instead he pulled out- leaving Damian to whimper at the loss, and stood up, tucking himself away. Damian looked back at him, pupils blown, eyes dark, nearly black like _his_ and the Joker knew he’d seen that look before, the few times Bruce had let him take him to such a state that he was high for days on the desire in his blood.

The Joker opened his mouth to tell the kid to _get out_ , that this was too similar to Bruce- it was exactly what the Joker had hoped for, and that scared him, down to his core. But as those dark eyes settled, he found himself settling on the arm of the chair, pulling the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Damian melted against him, any fight he’d had lost, and the Joker stroked his hair- felt just like Bruce’s hair- and wondered if maybe, he really could recreate his Bat in this boy. Maybe, if he started early enough, he could displace the fight from him, the anger, the desire to _push and push and push_ -

And leave something else in its place. Something like love.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, not sure how I dragged this out so long. But uh, thanks for reading, as always!


End file.
